


The Abomination - Season 1

by bisexual_disaster



Series: The Abomination [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Original Character(s), POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:38:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexual_disaster/pseuds/bisexual_disaster
Summary: Skyla Blake is... something. Working alongside Dean and John Winchester, she hunts the things that go bump in the night, while aiding in the search for the Yellow-Eyed Demon that killed Mary. Everything changes when John goes on a hunting trip and doesn't return. As she, Dean, and Sam set out to find John, she discovers what she is, and how family isn't always blood.(Not a totally original idea, but a re-working of Supernatural with an original female character. Mostly follows the storylines, with a few changes. Basically how the addition of a strong female character from the very beginning would affect the story.)





	1. Pilot - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know this sort of story is a little overdone, but please give me a chance! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated, but please be nice. This is my first time posting anything like this, and I will probably update irregularly, because college is pretty time-consuming. Enjoy!

“Are you absolutely positive that this is a good idea?” I question as I jimmy the lock to the apartment.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” I swing the door open, and turn around. Dean is standing there, hands in his pockets, acting innocent.

“Maybe because you haven’t talked to him in two years, he hates your father, oh, and, he might try to kill me? Remember what happened with Bobby?”

“Yeah, but Bobby didn’t cause serious damage,” I roll my eyes as he continues. “And besides, Sammy’s cool. He’ll understand.” I step aside to let him enter the building, and begin running down the stairs. “Where’re you going?”

“To the car! I’ll wait.”

“Fine! Just don’t hurt my baby.”

I spin around, put my hands on my hips, and say, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I quickly run down the rest of the stairs before Dean tries to catch up. Those damn Winchesters can work out their family problems without me.

As I reach the familiar black car, I run my hand along the front. I love the Impala, I do, but I miss my motorcycle. I even placed silver embellishments on her, which is probably how she ended up getting totaled. A while back, there was a run in with a werewolf, and I was out of knives and bullets, so I rammed her into the wolf, saving Dean’s ass. I sit on the cool leather and close my eyes. Sleep doesn’t come often, and most of the time monsters visit me in my sleep, so I’ll take what I can get.

I’m just about to fall asleep when I hear voices approaching the car. I sit down abruptly, squeezing myself into the smallest shape possible so as not to be seen by Sam. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that… I don’t know him well enough to trust him.

Dean and Sam sound like they’re having an argument. “Yeah, well, Dad’s in real trouble right now. If he’s not dead already. I can feel it.” There’s a small pause in the conversation before Dean continues speaking. “I can’t do this alone.” Well, then, what am I? A freak you found on the side of the road? Actually…

“Yes you can.” A voice that I’m currently assuming is Sam’s travels to my ears. It’s different than Dean’s voice, almost innocent, naive.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to.” I decide that now would be a perfect time for me to introduce myself, so I sit up and open the passenger door quickly, making Dean and Sam look over in my direction. “There she is!”

“Oh, shut up Dean,” I look over at Sam, who is staring at me with a bewildered expression on his face. “Hey Sammy. Dean’s told me a lot about you. My name’s Skyla, I hunt with John and Dean” I hold out my hand so he can shake it, but he just looks at me like I’m crazy. “Um… this is normally the part where we shake hands.”

“Oh! Yeah. Hi. I’m Sam.” Startled, he lunges for my hand, and it takes all of my willpower not to throw him over my shoulder and beat his ass. Mentally, I know he’s a friend, but the with the hunter mentality and my background, anyone lunges for me, they’re usually trying to kill me.

After shaking hands with Sam, which was extremely awkward, I turn to Dean. “So, are you going to show him what we got?”

“Yeah.” He turns to the trunk and pops it open, revealing the arsenal we have stored under the spare-tire compartment. Grabbing a shotgun, he props up the trunk and starts digging through it. “All right, let’s see, where the hell did I put that thing?”

“I swear, one of these days I’m going to organize that entire thing.” I mutter. Dean flips me off while searching, prompting Sam to snicker, before asking a question he had obviously been contemplating.

“So when Dad left, why didn’t you go with him?”

Dean pauses his fruitless searching for a minute and replies, “I - Uh, I mean we were,” he rephrases after seeing my glare, “We were working our own gig. This, uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans.”

“Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?”

“Hey! I was there!” “I’m twenty-six, dude.” Dean and I reply at the same time.

“Wait,” Sam turns to me, still confused. “Who are you again?” I’m about to respond when Dean stand up and pulls some papers out of the folder we had compiled.

“All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two-lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy,” he hands one of the papers to Sam. “They found his care, but he vanished. Completely MIA.” Sam reads the paper, which is the newspaper article I printed, and looks up.

“So maybe he was kidnapped.” I snort. I couldn’t help it. Kidnapped? Would John go investigate this if it was a simple kidnapping? I mean, I know Dean said Sam was out of the game, but still.

“Yeah. Well here’s another one in April.” Dean tosses another article to Sam, and then continues as I start listing dates.

“Another in December, ‘04, ‘03, ‘98, ‘92, ten of them over the past twenty years.” I finish, before grabbing the articles back and reorganizing them by order of date. I put them back in the folder as Dean finishes.

“All men, all same five-mile stretch of road.” He stops to pull the tape recorder out of the trunk. “It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I hadn’t heard from him since, which is bad enough. Then I get this voicemail yesterday.” He clicks play just as I stick the folder in the right corner of the arsenal.

There’s no way I’m letting the trunk get disorganized ever again.

“Dean, Sky… something big is starting to happen… I need to try and figure out what’s going on. It may… Be very careful guys. We’re all in danger.” Dean presses stop, and I turn to lean against the side of the Impala.

Sam breaks the silence, saying “You know there’s EVP on that?” I roll my eyes. No, Sam, we hadn’t thought of that! Thank God we consulted Mr. I-Got-Into-Stanford-I’m-Still-Smarter-Than-You. Dean, on the other hand, looks almost proud.

“Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn’t it?” Sam shakes his head in response, so Dean continues. “All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got,” Before he presses play, I cough rather loudly. “Okay fine. Sky did everything.” I nod, satisfied, and he hits play.

“I can never go home…” A woman’s voice plays over the tape. Dean presses stop, and turns to Sam almost expectantly.

“Never go home.” Dean drops the recorder haphazardly in the trunk to my extreme displeasure, and closes it.

“You know, in almost two years I’ve never bothered you, never asked you for a thing.” Sam looks away and sighs. I slowly creep back for the passenger door. I hate family situations, and knowing the Winchesters, I don’t want to be in the general vicinity when a family gathering occurs.

Sam looks back at Dean and replies. “All right. I’ll go. I’ll help you find him,” Dean nods, but Sam continues speaking. “But I have to get back first thing Monday. Just wait here.” He turns to go back to the apartment, but stops when I speak up.

“What’s first thing Monday?” It might not be any of my business, but a) I’m genuinely curious and b) having a time limit on hunts sucks, so if he can skip whatever the hell he has on Monday, that would be great.

“I have this… I have an interview.”

“What, a job interview? Skip it.” Dean says.

Sam looks exasperated as he elaborates. “It’s a law school interview, and it’s my whole future on a plate.”

“Law school?” Dean turns to me and smirks, while I attempt to cover my smile with my hands.

“So we got a deal or not?” With that, Sam turns and heads to his apartment. Dean and I wait until he’s gone before speaking.

“Told you! I told you he’d come!” Dean pumps the air with his fist.

“Yeah, until Monday. Then he’s gone. Look,” I face Dean. “Can we not tell him about… you know… my thing?” I sweep my hand up and down my body. “It’s just, if he’s not gonna be here long, then there’s really no point in telling more people than we already have.”

“Yeah sure. No problem. But if he stays…”

I sigh. “I know, I know. We tell him.” I open the passenger door to the Impala and grab my leather jacket. “I’m gonna catch up on some sleep, okay?” I close the passenger door and crawl into the backseat. “So, don’t argue and just blast Metallica.” At Dean’s nod, I close the back door, shape my jacket into a pillow, and stretch out in the back. It’s gonna be a long ride. I close my eyes, and let the blissful darkness consume me.

* * *

I wake up about halfway to Jericho. Dean is, as usual, drumming his fingers to the beat of the song on the wheel. Sam appears to be going over some papers. I look closer and I see the file. I guess he pulled it out before we left. I lean forward and say, "So guys, what'd I miss?"

"Jesus Christ!" Sam lurches forward in his seat, spilling papers on the floor and dashboard.

"Nope, just me. Again, any revelations I missed while catching up on my many hours of missed sleep?"

"Nothing Sky. Just Sam complaining about the music." Dean replies, smirking at Sam's reaction to my question. Sam glares at him while picking up the papers.

"Hey, you actually never answered my question. Who are you? How do you know Dean and my dad? How old are you? Why are you hunting? Where is your family? How did-" Dean interrupts Sam's sudden barrage of questions by hitting him on the arm.

"Dude, one at a time. She will answer everything, but only if she can understand what you're saying."

"Well, not everything. A girl's gotta have some secrets." I lean forward, so much so that I'm almost in the front seat with the boys. "Okay. My name is Skyla Blake. I started hunting with Dean and John around 2-ish years ago. I started hunting because… it sorta kinda runs in the family in a weird way. My family is dead. And…" I debate telling him my secret, but I decide not to freak him out, and frankly, I'm not up to explaining my freakiness right now. "I'm 17 years old."

"WHAT?!? 17? You hunted with Dean when you were 15? What the hell!" Sam is apparently very shocked by this revelation, even though Dean has informed me that they started hunting at around 14.

"Oh, come on Sammy. It's not that big of a deal. Besides, she's good." Dean says, turning to look at Sam instead of, oh I don't know, focusing on the road.

"Dean. Road." I say. I'm not in the mood to die again. It sucks.

"On it." He fake salutes, and turns back to the road.

"Wait, so-" Sam tries to start a conversation again, but I hold up a hand to silence him.

"Sorry, Sammy. You have used up your 5 questions for today. No more," I gesture with my hand for him to hand me the folder. "Pass me the files, would you? I wanna look through some things again," as he passes the folder back to me, I glance at him and notice his tired eyes. Softening my tone, I continue, "Why don't you catch up on some sleep? We're almost to Jericho. I'll wake you up so you can help me stop Dean from doing something stupid." He smiles at that and nods, curling toward the window.

"Rude." Dean says, after he is sure Sam is sleeping.

"Whatever." I say. "I'm going to comb through these, see if we missed anything."

"Nerd."

"Whore." After our usual exchange of insults, the car lapses into silence with Sam's steady breathing providing a nice background noise. I focus my attention on the papers in my hand and read through them again. Only a couple more hours, and then the real work begins. Only a couple more hours and then we find John. Only a couple more hours…


	2. Pilot - Chapter 2

Dean eventually pulled up to a gas station fairly early in the morning. I must have gone over the file a thousand times, but I still couldn't put together what creature was killing all these men. Hell, I couldn't even find a connection between them except for the fact that they were all men, all somewhat from the same town, and that they all disappeared on that certain stretch of highway. This wasn't going to be easy.

I’m snapped out of my internal monologue by Dean’s voice. “Hey kiddo, you want anything?” I look up to meet Dean’s eyes in the mirror.

“Don’t call me kiddo,” he rolls his eyes. “And yes, I would.” I shove the files onto the other seat, and climb out of the car. Sam was just waking in the front seat. I walk into the store and start searching for one of the only things that makes me happy; Red Bull. I essentially live on Red Bull. Dean says I have a problem, but how could Red Bull ever be a problem?

I find a can just as Dean walks into the tiny shop. He sighs the minute he sees what I’m practically cradling in my arms, but nods, knowing he can’t do anything to stop me. “Any other form of caffeine or sugar you want?” I straighten up at his words, and start searching for Nerds. It may be morning, but it’s never too early for candy. Dean grabs some beef jerky and sodas, and we head for the counter.

“That’ll be $17.56.” The store clerk rings up our breakfast. Dean swipes “his” card, and I gather my precious food in my arms. As I exit, I see Sam rifling through a box of tapes. Oh god. He’s going to complain about the music. This will be fun to watch. I nod at Sam as I pour some Nerds in my mouth and chase them down with Red Bull. I sit in the back seat, stretching out until my back is resting against the opposite car door and my feet are near the other door.

“Hey!” I look out the back window to see Dean holding up the sodas and other junk food. “You want breakfast?” I see Sam visibly cringe before responding.

“No thanks,” Dean shrugs and places the food on the roof of the Impala. “So how’d you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?” What does he think we’re doing? I work as a part-time barista at a cafe and Dean is a friggin’ mechanic while John works as a middle school gym teacher? Did Sam get stupider by going to college?

Dean, however, takes the question more seriously than I do. “Yeah, well, hunting ain’t exactly a pro ball career,” Dean puts the nozzle back on the pump before continuing. “Besides, all we do is apply. It’s not our fault they send us the cards.” I snort and chug more Red Bull. God this stuff is good.

“Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?” Sam closes the door and settles the box on his legs.

“Uh, Burt Aframian,” Dean gets in the car and sets his inferior food choices down. “And his kids Hector and Maria. Scored three cards out of the deal.” He closes the door.

“That sounds about right,” Sam says, although I see him glance back at me in the mirror. Clearly, he has unresolved trust issues. Then again, so do I. “I swear, man, you’ve gotta update your cassette tape collection.”

“Why?” Dean sounds incredulous.

I pick up the reigns on Sam’s argument. “Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two; Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? Dean, you know I love you and Metallica, but it’s basically the greatest hits of mullet rock.” Dean grabs a tape from Sam.

“Well fine. You guys suck,” he pops the tape into the player. “And remember, house rules. Driver picks the music-” I say the last part with him; he’s told me this a lot. “Shotgun shuts his cakehole.” Dean smiles at me, despite my betrayal. “Besides, Sammy, at least it’s good.” Dean starts the engine.

“You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year old.” Sam says, almost pouting. I could see why Dean still called him Sammy. AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ starts playing and I smile. I really love this song. “It’s Sam, okay?”

Dean, with that infuriating smirk, turns the music up so it’s almost shaking the car. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud.” With that, the conversation ends, and as he pulls out of the station, I can’t but to think that maybe hunting is better with both brothers. At least it’s fun to watch them bicker at each other.

* * *

 The music is still blasting when we drive past a sign that says ‘JERICHO 7’. Sam has since started calling hospitals and morgues, trying to see if there was a John Doe admitted matching John’s description. Sam finally says “Thank you.” and closes his phone. He then turns to Dean. “All right. So, there’s no one matching Dad at the hospital or morgue. So that’s something, I guess.” Dean nods, then looks back at the road. We’re approaching a bridge, and there appears to be cop cars and officers around it. I lean forward to get a better view.

“Check it out.” Dean says. Sam, like me, leans forward. Dean pulls over, and after a period of silence, he turns off the engine. Then he leans over and opens the glove compartment, pulling out the box of fake IDs we use on various cases. That box, like the trunk, is so disorganized it almost hurts to look at. He picks one out, tosses one back to me, and grins at Sam, who is simply staring. “Let’s go.” Dean and I get out, with Sam, finally realizing what just occurred, steps out too.

As we walk to the taped off area, a man that appears to be the deputy, yells down to some men in suits who were poking around the river. “You guys find anything?” The answering shout of “No! Nothing!” seems to dishearten the deputy turns back to the car. A man, who is looking inside the car, says “No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It’s almost too clean.” I square my shoulders, and start to walk like I belong there, as do Dean and Sam.

The men continue talking, when Dean interjects. “You fellas had another one like this just last month, didn’t you?” One of the deputies looks at Dean.

“And who are you?” Dean grins, and flashes his badge. “Federal marshals.” The deputy looks skeptical, especially when looking at my youthful figure.

“You three are a little young for marshals, aren’t you?” Dean laughs. “Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you.” Feeling bad for the deputy, I reply, “I’m a probationary agent.” The deputy nods, but still looks disbelieving. Dean, ignoring the deputy’s growing distrust, walks over to the car.

“You did have another just like this, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right. About a mile up the road. There’ve been others before that.” I nod, ignoring the deputy. We already know this, of course, but I still have to stay in character. I walk up to the car and look in, just like the other deputy. He’s right. It is too clean. And yet, I can sense that the kid’s death was anything but.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” Sam questions. Not exactly a mystery-cracking question, in fact, I don’t even see how it’s pertinent, but I decide to cut the new/old guy some slack. He really has been out of the game for too long.

The deputy nods, then speaks. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.” Ugh. Small towns. Those are my nightmares, not the things we hunt. Everybody knowing my secret… no thanks. Meanwhile, Dean is still circling the car. For someone who hates acting and theater, he really gets into character.

“Any connection between the victims, besides that they’re all men?” Now, that is a good question. Good job Dean.

“No. Not so far as we can tell.” I’m really getting the feeling that the deputy doesn’t like us. Or Dean. Probably just Dean.

“So what’s the theory?” Sam asks, walking over to Dean. How is this question gonna help? We’re hunting something supernatural, not something like a serial killer. Get your head out of the law textbooks and think like a hunter.

“Honestly, we don’t know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?” Oh god. How did this deputy even become a deputy. Those are the two worst theories anyone could have come up with.

Dean, as ever, voices his opinion. “Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I’d expect out of you guys.” I can’t help it. I snort as soon as Dean says the last word. That was the funniest thing I’ve heard this week. Sam, however, has clearly heard funnier, as he stomps on Dean’s foot, causing him to jump.

“Thank you for your time.” Sam turns back to the car, with Dean following. “Gentlemen.” I stare at them for a while, before remembering that I’m supposed to go with them. I jog up to them just as Dean smacks Sam on the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Why’d you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?” Sam retorts.

“Why are you two such children in public?” I grumble, under my breath. Or not under my breath, as they both turn to look at me. “What? It’s true!”

Dean looks at us, and moves in front of Sam, forcing Sam to stop walking. I stop too, mainly because I have a feeling Dean is about to pull on his big boy pants and say something smart. Those moments are few and I really like witnessing them. Of course, if you ask him, he is always brilliant. “Come on. They don’t really know what’s going on. We’re all alone on this. I mean, if we’re going to find Dad we’ve got to get to the bottom of this thing ourselves.”

I agree, and am about to voice my own opinion, when Sam clears his throat and looks over Dean’s shoulder. I follow his line of sight, and see a Sheriff and what appears to be two FBI agents. Shit. The sheriff approaches us.

“Can I help you boys?” I cough. “Excuse me, m’am. Didn’t see you there.” Didn’t see me there? I was standing right next to Sam… oh. More like I’m standing behind him. Of course he didn’t see me. Sam is friggin’ huge!

“No, sir, we were just leaving.” I say, not wanting Dean to open his mouth and get us in any more trouble with law enforcement than we might already be. However, it seems by efforts were pointless, for as the FBI agents pass Dean, he nods at each of them and says “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

Exasperated, I push past the boys and head for the car. We need to get more information, as this venture gleaned no helpful information, other than the fact the when the Winchester brothers get together, they regress to a toddler-like state regarding each other. Joy. I am now babysitting two grown men.

* * *

We drive in silence, Sam having claimed the passenger seat again. I will have to talk to him about that. The passenger seat is mine. Besides, he's far too big to fit. And he doesn't have mad music skills like me.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts when Dean parks the car. We're now on a street in the town. I notice a young woman tacking up posters as I step out of the car. Dean noticed too. He hits Sam, who is still trying to watch me while being subtle. He's not. "I'll bet you that her."

Sam, startled, just responds "Yeah." I sigh, and start walking to her. Dean and Sam follow.

"Hey, you must be Amy." I say sympathetically. Not that I'm all that sympathetic. It's just that I'm trying to get her to trust me. Amy nods, then spots Dean and Sam behind me. I nestle into Dean's side, and poke him so he knows to continue.

"Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles and this," he slightly nudges me, and I giggle to act the part. "This is my girl. I'm Dean, that's Sammy, and this is Sky."

Amy just says, "He never mentioned you to me" and walks away. We walk after her, Dean attempting to build a bond between them.

"Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto." Amy still looks dubious, so Sam cuts in.

"So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around." He pulls out these puppy dog eyes from out of nowhere, and Amy practically melts. All of a sudden, another girl comes up and puts her hand on Amy's arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" Amy nods in response. Sam, apparently very eager to finish this case, interjects yet again.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?" Shortly thereafter, we walked to a diner and located ourselves in a booth, the girls on one side, the boys on the other, and me on a stool I pulled over.

Amy started talking right away. "I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and… he never did."

I decided now would be a good time to interject. "He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?" Amy turned to me and shook her head, before responding to the boys.

"No. Nothing I can remember." Damn it. This conversation was going to be pointless. I made the gesture to Dean that we should go, but Sam was apparently not one to give up, and he continued speaking.

"I like your necklace." Seriously? Great detective work Sam! The necklace is the key to why so many men are going missing! Brilliant! Spectacular! I can see Dean thinking somewhere along those lines. I glance at the necklace on her chest anyway. She is holding it. It's a pendant with a pentagram in a circle. She looks down before responding.

"Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents-" she laughs. "-with all this devil stuff." Same laughs too, and Dean and I watch as she opens up to him. Damn him and his unassuming puppy face.

However, nerd in him breaks through. "Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing." Wow. Way to sound weird.

Dean attempts to defuse the awkward silence by getting to the point. "Okay. Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries." He leans forward. "Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything…" At the last comment, the two girls look at each other. "What is it?" Dean asks.

The other girl speaks up. "Well, it's just… I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

Without missing a beat, Sam and Dean both say, at exactly the same friggin’ time, “What do they talk about?” Weird. Is that a brother thing? How many pairs of brothers speak the same thing at the same time? Is was a little creepy.

Rachel, however, seems unfazed. “It’s kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago,” Now this could be useful. I lean forward, attempting not to look too eager. Sam does the same, while Dean just looks at Sam. “Well, supposedly she’s still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.” Now that is definitely useful.

* * *

 Shortly after leaving Rachel and whoever her friend was at the diner, the boys and I located the library. We found ourselves gathered around an old computer, looking up old newspapers articles that could connect to the legend, but so far nothing has turned up. Dean is typing in phrases like “Female Murder Hitchhiking” and “Female Murder Centennial Highway”, but so far nothing has shown up. Sam, who had up to this point been a silent observer, breaks the silence. “Let me try.”

He reaches for the computer, but Dean just smacks his hand. “I got it.” There is now no denying the evidence. They are literal toddlers around each other. I get up from my perch on the desk behind them, and shove Dean’s chair out of the way, while simultaneously dragging Sam’s chair up to the monitor. “Dude!” Dean hits Sam on the shoulder, and tries to hit me while moving closer to the computer. “You’re such control freaks.” He states, obviously disgruntled at the mutiny.

Sam ignores him and plows forward. “So, angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?”

“Yeah.”

I jump in, seeing where Sam is leading with this. “Well, maybe it’s not murder.” Sam nods, then replaces “Murder” with “Suicide”. An article entitled “Suicide on Centennial” shows up. Sam clicks on the link, and starts to read aloud.

“This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps of Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.” I nod, looking at the picture of her.

Dean interjects. “Does it say why she did it?”

“Yeah,” I say. “An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back they aren’t breathing. Both die. Tough luck.”

Dean raises his eyebrows, and we all read the article until he says, “The bridge look familiar to you?”

I look closer. “Yes! That’s where the crime scene is.” I stand up, almost knocking my chair over. “We have to go back. Right now.” I spin around and practically sprint for the door, Dean following right behind me.

“Come on guys! Slow down!” Sam yells from the computer.

* * *

 We’re walking along the bridge. The sky is black, and the air is cold. I shiver, pulling my leather jacket closer to me. Where could John be? He should be ahead of us, he should have already figured out the case and solved it. Unless… no. He’s too good of a hunter to get picked off by a measly ghost.

Dean’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.”

I snort. “Eloquently put, Dean.” He lunges for me, but I dance out of the way.

“So, do you think Dad would have been here?” Sam asks, interrupting the fight.

“Probably,” I respond. “He’s chasing the same story, and we’re chasing him.” I continue walking along the bridge, prompting Dean and Sam to do the same.

“Okay, so now what?” Sam asks. Oh god. They’re gonna get into a sibling fight. I start walking further away. I really don’t want to get involved in this. I want to find John, let Sam get back to his mediocre college life, and start hunting again. That, and find my parents. And subsequently kill them. You know, typical teenage things. As soon as I’m far enough away, I sit on the edge of the railing and start to clean my nails with my knife. I glance at Sam and Dean. They’re really getting into it. Great.

After a little while, Dean starts walking towards me. “You have a responsibility to-”

“To what?” Sam asks. “To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren’t for pictures, I wouldn’t even know what Mom looks like,” Oh god. Now you’ve done it. Never bring up Dean’s mom in front of him. “And what difference would it make?” Sammy, just stop before you end up with a broken nose. “Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom’s gone. And she isn’t coming back.” Final nail in the coffin.

With barely contained fury on his face, Dean slams Sam back into a pole on the bridge. “Don’t talk about her like that.” I sigh, and stand up. I start strolling back to the boys, when I see Constance standing on the edge of the bridge.

“Guys.” I breathe. I run forward next to them, and pull their gazes away from each other and onto Constance. She just stands there on the edge, staring at us. What is she doing? She steps off the bridge, and we run over to the railing. I look down, but there’s nothing. “What the hell?”

“Where’d she go?” Dean, at least, is as confused as I am.

“No clue.” All of a sudden, the Impala’s engines start up and the headlights come on.

“How-”

“Who’s driving your car?” Sam questions while not taking his eyes off the car.

Oh no. Dean pulls the keys out of his pocket and jingles them. Shit. We pissed off Constance the crazy ghost. Spectacular. The car jerks into motion. Double shit.

“Guys? Go,” They look at me. “Guys! Killer car coming right at us! Run! Allons-y!” We start running as fast as we can. Unfortunately, the car can go much faster than two humans and a something. I glance back. Okay, that car is way too close for comfort. “Jump!” I yell, and reach for the railing. Sam and Dean quickly follow my lead. I manage to catch the underside of the railing, and I hold on for dear life. Not that it would matter if I died. Nothing can hold me down for long.

I pull myself back up as soon as the car stops, and I hear Sam grunting as he gets back on the bridge. I turn around, and freeze. Where is Dean? Sam stares back at me, and understands instantly.

“Dean? Dean where are you?” He calls out into the once again silent night.

I stare over the railing, clutching it so tight my knuckles turn whiter than that bitch’s ghostly dress.

“Dean!”

* * *

My desperate cry rings out into the cold night. My heartbeat quickens, drowning out Sam’s shouts for his brother, until all I can hear is a constant thumping. I scan the river, searching for any sign of Dean.

“What?” I turn my head towards the noise from the riverbank. Dean is crawling out of the water and onto the muddy bank, clearly annoyed. I let out a sigh of relief, and my tight grip on the railing loosens, my hands falling to my sides.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Sam asks.

Dean gives him a thumbs up, then calls up “I’m super.” I bark out a laugh, still trying to calm my nerves. As Dean picks himself up and starts walking back to the bridge, I run my hand through my hair. I glance at Sam, assessing his body for any injuries. How the hell did I get so attached to the Winchesters so fast?

* * *

 Dean slams the hood of the car and leans on it. “Is Baby okay?” I question, running my hands possessively over the hood. “You’re okay, aren’t you? What did that mean ghost do to you?”

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a _bitch!_ ” He yells into the night. I swallow a laugh, and then sit on the hood next to him, Sam leaning on the other side.

“Well, she doesn’t want us digging around, that’s for sure. So where’s the job go from here, genius?” Sam says.

“I have no clue, Sam. Aren’t you the one who got into Stanford?” I say scathingly. “I guess college didn’t teach you much, did it?”

Dean promptly cracks up, practically falling onto Sam, getting mud all over Sam’s jeans. Shoving Dean off his body, Sam sniffs. “You smell like a toilet.” He says, in an attempt to get Dean to stop laughing. It works.

* * *

 We pull into the parking lot of the only motel in town. Dean parks the car, and we all just sit there for a second; Dean and Sam up front, and me in the back. I really need to catch up on sleep. Sighing, I push myself forward and tap the brothers on their shoulders. “Ready?”

Dean turns back to me and smirks. “Always.” I playfully swat his arm, mindful that he did just jump off a bridge. Sam opens the passenger door with a creak that interrupts the silence, prompting Dean and I to open our respective doors. Dean led the way to the motel lobby, fishing in his pocket for “his” credit card. Stalking through the doors, he quickly crosses the room and slaps the card on the guest ledger. “One room please.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam do a double take. What? Does he assume we wouldn’t get one room? That I get a special room all to myself because I’m a girl? Hunters stick together college boy. Not that you would know.

“You guys having a reunion or something?” The clerk asks. I turn my head to Dean. Is John here?

“What do you mean?” Sam asks, right as I was opening my mouth to ask the same question. The clerk nods, handing Dean a room key.

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.” Dean looks at me, then Sam. We exit the office in silence. As soon as the doors close, I start talking.

“So, go to our room, clean up, relax, or break into John’s room?” I ask, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. Sam scoffs, and starts walking towards John’s room. Dean just looks after him. “It was a joke, you know that right?”

“Yeah. I know kiddo.” He takes off after Sam, leaving me standing outside the office, holding our room key. I sigh. I want to find John, I really do. I stare down at the key. Damn it. I turn around and trudge to the room. I need a shower, I need some sleep, and they need space. I’ll check in with them later.

* * *

 After a long shower and much needed sleep, I’m bored out of my mind. I exit the room, grabbing a spare I.D. Worst case scenario, the boys still need space, and I go and get a drink. As I’m crossing the parking lot, I run into Dean. “Hey stranger,” I say as soon as I’m in earshot. He’s about to enter the Impala. “What are you doing?”

“Going to the diner down the street. I’m starving. Wanna come?”

“Sure. What’d you guys find in John’s room?” I say, moving over to the passenger door.

“I’ll tell you on the way there.” I nod, about to open the door when I spot the clerk from before talking to the two deputies from before.

“Call Sam.” I say, watching the clerk point at us.

“What? Why would-”

I cut him off. “We’ve been made. Call Sam. Tell him to get out right now,” As the deputies saunter over to us, I force a smile. “Look’s like we’re taking a trip downtown.”

Dean nods, pulls out his cell, and starts whispering to Sam. He hangs up just as the officers approach him. I walk over to Dean, and lean against the hood of the car.

“Problem, officers?” Dean asks, that shit-eating grin planted firmly on his face. I resist the urge to smack him.

“Where’s your partner?” One of them says.

“Right here,” I say, stepping out in front of Dean.

“No, the other one.” He motions to the other deputy to start walking to the motel room Sam is in. Shit. “So,” he continues speaking. “Fake US Marshal. Fake credit cards. You got anything that’s real?”

“My boobs.” “My dick.” Dean and I say simultaneously. We look at each other. Did he seriously just say that? Then again, I did say I have a dick. Oh well. We turn back to the officer, grins on our faces. Oh god. The brothers have infected me with the whole ‘siblings-in-sync’ thing.

The officer slams Dean to the hood of the cop car, the other one handcuffing me. “You have the right to remain silent-”. It’s official. I hate the Winchesters.

* * *

I’m sitting in a holding room, fiddling with the cuffs on my wrists. Why did I leave my lock pick set in the room? I’m so stupid. Ugh. I lean back in the chair. Even if I could pick them, I’d need a distraction to get out, because there’s no way I could get through the window, and there’s no other exits in this crummy place. Shit.

I straighten up as soon as the door opens. One of the deputies from before enters the room. “So, Rosie Sanders, right? Not Maria Aframian? And not a probationary agent with the US Marshals?” Well duh, dumbass.

I stay silent as he sits in the chair across the table and fiddles with my ID. “You don’t look 23.” No shit.

“It’s my skin cream. Takes about 5 years off. You should try some.” I snark, unable to help myself. The deputy laughs humorlessly.

“You know, your partner? He’s spilling everything. Blaming it all on you.” Fat chance. However, I contort my features to a look of concern, causing the deputy to smile and continue. “Yeah that’s right. How you guys are a cult of satanists, kidnapping young men and killing them somewhere; and how you made them do it.” What the hell? Where did they come up with these theories? How did they even become cops?

“Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense. Because when the first murder happened, I wasn’t alive yet. Oh no, wait. I’m a satanist, aren’t I? Drat, you’ve figured it out.” I smirk and place my palms on the desk. “I stay young by drinking the blood of young men. I force my cronies to acquire young men for me. I’ve enslaved them. I’m 5,000 years old. Mwahahaha!” Okay, I’ll admit. That was a little over the top. But seriously? These guys are so off the mark it’s hilarious.

“You know what missy? You stay in here and think about your life choices. I’ll be back. We’ll continue this conversation later.” He gets up and stalks out, slamming the door behind him. Asshole.

* * *

 I don’t know how much later it is, but I am now officially bored out of my mind. There’s only so many times you can count the ceiling tiles. I’m considering faking an injury to get attention, when an officer opens the door. “Will you be alright here? You don’t need to go to the bathroom, do you?”

Here’s my chance. “Actually, I do. Would you mind?” I say, jingling the cuffs attached to my wrists. He sighs and crosses the threshold into the room, the door closing behind him. He leans down to get the keys to the handcuffs when I make my move. One elbow to the nose, foot to the chest, kick to the head, and he’s out. I lean over his body, get the cuffs off, and make my way to the door.

“Shots fired guys, move out!” I hear someone say. So that’s why he came in. I wait until I hear the front door slam shut, then I sneak out of the room. And run right into Dean.

“Hey kiddo, I was just looking for you!” He says, steadying me with his hands. I shrug him off and search for a back entrance to the station.

“Don’t call me kiddo,” I say. I gesture to the now empty police station. “Is this Sam’s doing?”

Dean nods. “And look what the police found.” He pulls out John’s journal from his jacket.

“Shit. Okay, we gotta call Sam, let him know what’s going on.” I find a fire escape, and Dean and I make quick work of leaving that wretched station.

* * *

 Somehow, we found a phone booth without getting spotted by the ever-so-helpful law enforcement. Dean is calling Sam, while I sit on a bench, cleaning my nails with a knife that the police missed while arresting me. Amateurs. You always check the shoes. I glance at Dean. He’s making weird gestures with his hands, something he does when he gets agitated or dramatic. Right now, I’m guessing both. I look back at my knife, flipping it around in the air.

“Sam? Sam!” I nearly drop my knife at Dean’s outburst. I quickly pocket it, and jog to the phone booth. Dean throws the phone down.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as soon as I’m in earshot.

“I don’t know. We were talking and he just hung up,” he replies. “I think… I think Constance has him.”

“Shit.” If Constance kills him, Dean will never recover. “Okay, he was on the highway right?” Dean nods, staring into space. “Dean! Focus! Constance says something about never going home, so maybe Sam is gonna take her to their old house. What was the address?”

Dean looks up at me, eyes brightening with the hope of saving Sam. “Follow me, kiddo. We’re gonna kill Casper the bitchy ghost.” He takes off running down the street, presumably to steal a car or something. This is not gonna end well.

* * *

 After a tense car ride in which Dean let me drive so he could load his shotgun, we pull up at the back of the house. Dean runs out before I’ve even stopped the car. I follow him as soon as I park, grabbing my own gun filled with salt rounds that Dean so happily loaded for me. I run after Dean to see him firing into the Impala’s window. I stand next to Dean and as fire as well when Constance reappear. She disappears and I start to run to the car when Sam sits up.

“I’m taking you home.” He says, and drives straight into the house. I stare dumbfounded for a second, before sprinting to the car.

“Sam! Sam! You okay?” Dean says as he pulls Sam out of the car.

“I think..”

“Can you move?”

“Yeah. Help me?” I walk forward throughout their exchange, gun cocked and at the ready. I spin once I see Constance pick up a picture frame.

“Guys?” I say, prompting Sam and Dean to look up. They both see Constance, but before they can do anything, she waves her hand and a bureau pins Sam and Dean to the car. “Hey!” I shout, before moving to cover Sam and Dean. She looks at me, and waves her hand again, causing me to fly backwards straight into a wall…

“Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?” I hear Sam’s voice break through.

“Hey. We saved your ass Tree.” I mumble sitting up against the wall.

“Sky!” Dean says before running over to me. “How you doing kiddo?” He moves his hand to examine my head, but I shrug out of his grasp before standing up.

“Where’s Casper the bitchy ghost?” I say.

“Her kids killed her. Did you must call me a tree?” Sam asks, walking over from the bottom of the stairs to stand next to Dean.

“Yes. Yes I did. I gave you a nickname, that means I like you. You’re welcome. Now what’s this about ghost kids?”

“We’ll tell you on the way back to Stanford. Sammy, or as you have dubbed him, Tree, and a law school interview, remember? And Sam. If you screwed up my car? I’ll kill you.” I burst out laughing, the day’s events finally catching up to me. I limp to the back of the car, already imagining the nice lumpy motel bed that awaits me. As Dean pulls out of the driveway, I decide to forgo all medical advice ever given to people with possible concussions and sleep.

* * *

 As the car slows, I wake up. Sam is leaning over the car, looking through the window and talking to Dean. “Call me if you find him?” Dean simply nods, obviously moody about the whole situation. “And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

“Yeah, all right.” Dean replies. Sam pats the car twice and runs for the apartment building. I hope into the passenger seat, startling Dean.

“Sam?” I shout. He turns around. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.”

He manages a smile. “Yeah. We did.”

Dean drives off, leaving Sam standing there watching us. However, instead of driving off, Dean circles the block and parks across the street from Sam’s building. “Uh, Dean? What are you doing?”

“I’m just, uh, you know, making sure he’s alright.” Dean says, trying to downplay his familial feelings.

“Yeah. Sure. So what’d I miss while I was out?” I say, propping my feet up on the dashboard.

“We’ve, well, Sam figured out the coordinates Dad left for me in his journal. It points to an area called Blackwater, Colorado. I figure we make sure Sam’s okay, then head there and find Dad. That’s basically it, Sky. That and Sam is completely whipped about this girl of his, Jess something.”

“Tree has a girlfriend? That’s sweet,” I say, glancing at Dean. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Dean aks.

“Sam.” I whisper, causing Dean to whip his head around to stare at the, now, burning building. Dean turns back to me for a second, before we both open our doors and start sprinting into the building.

“Sam!” Dean shouts as soon as we enter. “Sammy! Sammy answer me!”

“Dean!” I scream. “The bedroom!” I say, pointing to where the fire seems the worst.

He nods, and kicks the door open, all the while shouting “Sam!”

“Jess!” I hear Sam’s voice. Dean enters the room, pulling Sam off the bed. I stare at the ceiling. Oh god. Jess. Dean pulls Sam through the doorway, shouting after him.

“Sky! We gotta get out of here!” I nod, still staring at Jess’ body. The flames are slithering all over her, entwining her body in fiery ribbons. I shake my head and run after Sam and Dean. We all make it to the sidewalk, standing there and watching the apartment being engulfed by the ravenous flames.

The fire truck and police arrive soon after, as do the curious throngs of civilians. I’m leaning against the hood of the car, watching Dean observe the chaos. After a little while, he turns back and walks to the car. I follow Dean to the trunk, where Sam is loading a shotgun. His face is that of a broken man, desperate and angry and confused. He sighs and tosses the shotgun into the trunk. I let out a small whimper, jerking my hands back as they automatically reach for the gun to rearrange it in an orderly fashion.

“We got work to do.”


End file.
